Can I Really use Hair Grease as Potion Ingredients?
by PervyPanda
Summary: A Severus Snape Self-Insert. It's funny enough I suppose. Probable sex, lotsa swearing. SI/OOC(ish-sorta) you have been warned.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Zoom to 170% Don't hurt your eyes!

Hope you enjoy.

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Cover Image is Severus Snape by eliz7 on Deviantart

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"Are you serious!?" How irritating.

"No I'm Severus." I drawled back.

They were my historic first words spoken in this new, convoluted existence I find myself within.

My first view was the equally memorable sight of "dickhead one" (he doesn't _deserve_ the capital letter) and "butt-bitch the mutt" (likewise undeserving of the proper noun), gaping like the giant cunts they were.

Honestly, these two twats are everything wrong with puberty personified.

Spots anoint thy face like ruby jewels and you quack like the Queens swans themselves my dears! Oh Lords of farts so fragrant your august stench is to much for this humble wizard, please grace those more worthy... not.

Even as my inner monologue drabbled freely, the twosome were still and cold as my stone, dead heart. At this point their silent gaping was getting a bit disturbing, it almost as if they are expecting something to fly in.

If so...

"You should really be on you knees if you want to catch cock effectively." I advise helpfully, their upper cunts were far to high far anyone save maybe Haggrid... _purge_.

Swishing away with a flap of my robe I let my body take over.

I am confused. That is an understatement. Frankly I am still half convinced I'm of my tits on drugs. However stating what I know is helpful. That I am confused I am sure off, there's scant else of that; _surety_.

After all it's barely been a minute since _I've_ become self-aware.

I _would_ continue with the possibly vital self-reflection, which would be the smart thing, but my lanky strides have already navigated to the dorms.

Sinking further into autopilot, my body recited the password and practically glided through the common-room. Everything was far to ethereal for me to process properly.

 _The carpet too soft, the walls too large, the air to thick..._

My room door opened without me even touching it but my mind was too tired to rise to the bait.

The door shut behind me, like magic. Heh. For a moment I stood still. Simply resting on my heels... My eyes threaten to fold... I realise I am so very, very tired.

A single room, a singe bed, a table, parchment sprawled, a set of draws, a chest...

 _My room. My bed. My table. My parchment. My draws. My chest._

An invisible weight falls on me.

 _So tired..._

My throat is parched.

Legs like lead shuffled towards respite.

My sight tearing.

With a flop my view was engulfed by a feather stuffed pillow.

The sensations were muffled by my robes, but even then everything felt like it was encased in dry mucus...

I eyes weighted shut, my head started to throb.

 _So tired..._

Everything went dark.

* * *

...

...

Awakening was a dull, needlessly extended experience.

The air was neither cold, thus leaving me to seek warmth in my blankets, nor was it warm, thus leaving me to snuggle; it was in fact, the perfect temperature for waking up.

However it was sheer laziness that kept me.

Well... that and a minor existential crisis.

I want to cry, but no tears come out.

 _Just another Saturday._

I really do want, nay _need_ to cry though. Not of sadness or pain but as a simple release of stress.

His, my, our, _My_ world has changed.

And it was all compressed, sorted and stored in one night.

I still need to catch up. I think my body is in shock or something.

"The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak...?"

A strange inverse of the phrase, but I guess that's what happens when you throw magic in the mix.

 _... Eh..._

Still tangled in my sheets and robes, I let my new eyes wander the dark absently.

 _I am no longer me, he is no longer he._

Strange I refer to old me as me still.

Old me is no more, the memories are still there yes, but it is now merely data, archived away. That is someone else. He is gone. Dead for all intents and purposes.

I did not simply transmigrate, I _reincarnated_ in the most literal sense. I went through Samsara and was purified so to speak.

However likewise so did the old Severus.

He... I am unsure if I killed him or not but he too is no more. Dead for all intent and purpose.

He to is data, archived away...

I can feel my brow furrow in concern. I have to consciously drive my thought away from the guilt of possibly killing a child.

For now, it would not do on dwelling on such things.

 _For now._

I... I however am completely new.

I am a balance.

"Old me" holds dominant in thought process and personality but there is a bit of Serverus mixed in.

To balance this out, I am in Severus's body and have no Identity but _Severus_.

I no longer recall names from my past reincarnation. The names of _things_ yes, the names of _countries_ yes, but there is absolutely no memory of people's names. Or rather those names have been purified from me.

My name, my families names, the Prime-Minister's name, the President's name, the so-called Author of this reality's name... None.

Emotion wise we are split equal (I think) however there are far less things here to provoke a strong emotional response from old me than there is old Severus, thus it will be mostly Severus's leftover emotions I will be regulating. Or at least until I build connections and perspectives of my own.

I flopped over in my bed so I face the ceiling.

 _I am, in some ways, balanced out, but I'm still a mess._

I attempt to run my hand through my hair but all I get is a limp smack on the forehead.

 _God I'm a mess..._

My eyes shut and I focus on my breathing.

It's shallow and quite, same as old me.

We both breath. We're both human. We both have a dick. We both have black hair. We're not so different him and I.

 _Except he has magic. I just had a magic cock._

Sure. Except from that.

... Ugh.

 _I need Occularmancy._

My stomach Growled, with a capital G.

 _I need food._

It was that that finally got me out of bed.

* * *

AN: To get me back into writing.

Please do tell me what you think, especially what tone Sev is setting. Despite writing it I'm not sure how he comes across to readers. I have my own thoughts which "taint" my view on my characters, I would like an outside perspective.

Chapter is short for now, and will probably remain so for a while. Or at least while I'm working through this nitty-gritty introduction stuff.

Also what do you think of this drabble format writing style? Put you off? Like it? Not bothered?

Do tell if there is any typo's or whatever, but for now.

Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Zoom to 170% Don't hurt your eyes!

Hope you enjoy.

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Cover Image is Severus Snape by eliz7 on Deviantart

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Severusly, it's a good thing today's a Saturday. It took a good while for me to get cleaned up.

For one; I stumble now, quite a bit. Its amazing how much your mind "auto-corrects".

I mean I get it, it's not like you consciously think of you muscles contracting and relaxing when bending an arm or lifting a leg, so obviously it's just something _ingrained,_ so to speak. A natural subconscious action.

However, right now I have two established and deeply ingrained auto-corrects on at the moment. One of a gangly kid bang in the middle of puberty, the other of a far more broad College student with clumsy feet. Their heights, weight, width and perception are completely different.

A single nights rest was enough to sort out _most_ (read: _some_ ) of the _emotional_ synergy, but it's done little on the physical side of things.

In the end, after a few too many stubbed toes, I found a temporary equilibrium between the two precognitive actions by just shuffling everywhere. By barely letting my feet of the ground, and judging distance with sweeping motions like an Earth Bender, I was able to locomote semi efficiently.

 _My toes still hurt though._

Secondly, were the changes to my appearance.

Nothing had changed save one thing, well two things actually, they being my eyes.

Previously, this body possessed two, coal black eyes. They were neither striking nor particularly conspicuous despite the rarity of the hue.

Now however... they were, in a word, _strange_.

Like, really quite weird.

I wouldn't quite go as far to say they are _magical_ , but there is certainly a new element of mysticism.

One can tell upon first glance; that shit ain't normal.

Currently my eyes are mixed, the original black, and _'my'_ oak brown.

 _Technically_ _the 'black' colour is actually brown pigments so dark it looks back._

There are equal amounts of the black and brown but it isn't the complete heterochromia people first think of, but sectoral heterochromia.

Complete heterochromia is when one iris of one eye is a completely different color than the iris of the other eye, sectoral heterochromia is where only a portion of one eye has a different color than the rest of the iris. I have this sectoral heterochromia in _both_ eyes.

Even then, it isn't the regular _blocks_ of colour, but _stripes_.

My left eye is two-thirds black with a total of seven brown stripes stretching from pupil to sclera flecking the iris.

Same with the right eye, except this one was predominately brown with black stripes. Same with the left eye the ratio was roughly 2:1 brown to black, with similar seven stripes.

They were rather striking, perhaps even hypnotising if you stared at them long enough.

Still...

 _Really quite weird._

Again, save my eyes there were no physical changes, at least none I can see upon first glance.

The talking mirror in the bathroom agreed.

It was a testament to how slothful I was in the mornings that I couldn't even be bothered to scream, which probably saved me no small amount of internal embarrassment.

To my irritation, mirror me still made the morning quip on how surly I look.

Wouldn't stop nattering whilst I washed my face.

Severus thought it had been cursed for maximum irritation.

I am inclined to agree.

Shoving reality breaking juju to the back of my mind for now, it took another few minutes to get changed from my previous days robes that I slept in, to new fresh ones.

Fortunately Severus owns two sets of uniform, unfortunately, it's the "non-posh one", fortunately, it's hella comfortable.

That's some good devilry right there.

I would go onto explain the history of non-posh and posh uniform, their political statements, significance and consequences, but I'm hungry.

So hungry my stomach's starting to cramp.

"Ugh. 'Dat 'urts." That's not normal I don't think...

My gut is making whale noises.

I double over.

Forget, main hall, infirmary.

"Oww..."

Blood is rushing to my head, my face feels flush.

Pressure is mounting.

 _My head hurts._

I feel dizzy.

 _My head hurts._

Black spots in my vision.

 _My head hurts._

Going dark.

 _My head hurts._

 _"Help."_

Faintly, I hear a pop.

Black.

* * *

I have been conscious less than an hour, perhaps even less than half an hour, and yet waking up is the most frequent thing I've done so far.

 _Ugh._

"Good morning Severus."

I blink. I'm not alone this time. That's new.

Looking to my right, I see the form of one I'm familiar with.

Male, old, tall and thin, silver beard, brightly coloured robes, half-moon spectacles and twinkly, _fucking_ , eyes.

I felt mine narrow minutely.

"Good morning Headmaster."

Albus Percival Wulfric- where the fuck did Brian come from- Dumbledore.

I huffed out an internal sigh.

 _Let's get this over with._

* * *

AN: Ello again, miss me?

Shorter than the last chapter but I thought that was too god of a place to not leave off. I'm also starting the next chapter immediately which should be out soon.

Look forward for it.

Schedule wise, don't expect chapter coming out Mon-Wed, I have college. Today is an exception because school is of due to Teacher training.

Thursday too may be booked up because deadlines _are_ approaching slowly but steadily.

However from now onward, Fri-Sun will be the primary times of releases.

With that sorted, thank you for reading.

I hope you enjoyed, reviews are ever appreciated.

See ya in a bit.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Zoom to 170% Don't hurt your eyes!

Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Cover Image is Severus Snape by eliz7 on Deviantart

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Albus Percival Wulfric- where the fuck did Brian come from- Dumbledore.

He was appointed Headmaster in the year 1971, coincidentally the same year Severus started Hogwarts.

As a teacher he is rather beloved by most students, well respected by fellow teachers and damn near deified by the Wizarding public (sheeple), a busy man one might rightly assume.

So one might think finding such a Great Man at the bedside of some two-bit Slytherin Third year to be surprising.

One would be mistaken.

For an old guy, Dumbledore is incredibly "down with the kids".

And I mean that with zero sarcasm, mocking or any cringe, Dumbledore genuinely knows how to connect with the youth of this time.

It also helps he _always_ seams to be there when a student is in trouble, needs help or occasions such as the one I find myself in.

To lend aid, tutor, congratulate, commiserate... he's there.

Going as far to be two, three, four places at once! Many a student have been left baffled at his ability to simply be _there_ when it matters, no matter what.

I now know it to be probably Time-Turner bullshitery, but that doesn't change the iron-clad fact that he actually, genuinely **cares**.

Previously I said he is rather beloved by most students, what I meant was that the students that _don't_ like him can be counted on one hand.

He's just that well loved, and as far as Severus knew, it was well deserved.

 _I,_ on the other hand, have mixed feelings.

But that can wait til later.

Currently I am faced with one of, if not _the_ magically strongest wizard in the West of this age.

 _'Round 1...'_

I smiled.

"Good morning Headmaster."

He smiled.

 _'Fight!'_

* * *

Well that went well.

No attempted mind rapes (as far as I could tell), no interrogation, no truth serums... no nothing.

Quick and painless, our "talk" was done in under three minutes.

In fact is was less of a talk and more him just inquiring about my health...

* * *

"I am not in any pain, though my body feel slightly sluggish."

"A side affect of the Napping Drought. Nothing unusual my boy."

... Whilst informing me of what I missed...

"You haven't missed much, 'tis still the day of Satur, I should have greeted you with 'good evening' in fact. In a few hours it shall be curfew."

"Is Satur a word...?" Cue twinkling.

... And of course; asking what had happened...

"You really did startle our dear Madam Healsa popping in with an entourage of house-elves," his countenance changed from jolly relief to grandfatherly concern. His voice softened. "What happened my boy?"

"... I'm not entirely sure, but I do have an idea." I stated with all the schoolboy earnesty my surly face could muster."I don't think it's anything bad," debatable, "but I do know this is a turning point." I project certainty. "Something I should deal with by myself." And that was the heart of the issue.

 _'By myself.'_

 _In other words; **don't interfere old man.**_

Perhaps it was just nerves. The, frankly, _ridiculous_ situation I find myself in, the alien sensations, the vulnerability, the rapid changes of scenery, the sheer pace at which things are progressing, the abruptness, the helplessness, the pressure, the stakes, the _fear,_ the...

 _The fucked up contrived nature of of it all._

It all just added up. One on top of the other. A treacherous tower.

Put another way...

 _I am extremely touchy right now. **Don't fuck with me.**_

If I were in a a joking mood, I'd say I was on my period.

But I'm not.

So I won't...

But I just did.

...

 _Ugh._

My stress and what-not wasn't _relieved_ as such, but it did deflate.

The blood stopped rushing to my mind and I relaxed the shoulders I didn't realise were so tense.

 _'Phuuuuuu' Centre yourself_

I did breathing exercises mentally. Don't ask how.

 _'Keep calm and be sexy'_

...

 _Ugh._

I expected Le Goat to disagree or disapprove more of the whole "I'll go it alone!" thing, surprisingly not.

Or at least not that I could tell.

In fact there was barely any tell. Just a minute tug of the lips and one or two more contours in his brow.

Even then, the frown barely held for a second before morphing into a more neutral expression of consideration.

In the end...

"Very well... This, while sudden, is not entirely unexpected," I think my heart stalled, "this last week you _have_ been acting... _untypical_ as of late." Hmm?

"I have?"

Apparently I have.

It occurred to me that I lack perspective.

I was rushing too much, forming opinions far to quickly. Acting almost on instinct alone. Too quick. Too reckless.

Though you can hardly blame me.

Conscious for less than a half-hour and already I'm facing down a World-Boss from an infirmary bed without my wand.

Even if my panic has been somewhat deflated, it's still there. Tangled round my feet like a limp bouncy castle, just waiting to trip me up.

 _Ugh._

Twas time to take a step back and a deep breath.

Wait...

 _'Wand?'_

My eyes flew wide.

"Wand!"

* * *

And that's how I find myself here.

"Here" being "sauntering through the halls of Hogwarts back to the dorms" once again.

Differing from previously, this time I have an objective!

My beloved weapon of mass destruction that children carry around in their pockets.

 _Not the dick._

Mine Wand! Oh Wand of mine!

For the second time _(ever)_ I am somewhat rushing back to the dorms.

'Somewhat' because I keep getting distracted.

'Rushing back' because I feel vulnerable. Why? Everyone else has a gun, but I don't. Simple.

 _Inexcusable._

But! But! Magic! Shit-tonne o'magic.

 _Distracting._

After I finished bellowing my avid desire for (Mine!) Wand(!) we (Goat, Madam Healsa (the Mediwitch) and I) realised it was in the dorm (probably).

I pretty much insisted I not be part with it a moment longer.

After that things were tidied up pretty quick. Madam Healsa gave me the clean bill after a cursory wave of the wand, Goat too left shortly with a customary "my boy~".

 _Very mixed feelings._

By the way, Madam Healsa didn't say much. Just to check in tomorrow morning.

I suppose incidents like this aren't so rare?

I don't _actually_ know what she did to me though... That makes me a bit leery.

Other than (allegedly) giving me a Napping Drought, (which you can consider a levelled down Sleeping Drought), I don;t know what else was stuffed down my throat... or vanished into my stomach.

To others perhaps Dumbledore being by there bedside upon recovery would be heartwarming and touching (which it was for Severus) old me would be hella disturbed.

Imagine waking up to your Math teacher looking over you in a hospital ward.

Well it's not that bad as this is a boarding school, but I believe you understand my belated misgiving.

It was so sudden before I didn't even get a chance to react.

Now alone with my thought and boggled by my surroundings, I suspect the paranoia is catching up with me.

All that panic and angst is inflating again.

Thus I need my wand.

To Severus, it was a source of power. A physical representation of his control. His influence over his own life represented.

To old me, it is a source of wonder. My childhood daydreams. It represents the impossible adventure, an escape.

To I, it is my safely blanket. My safety net. My armour, sword, spear and steed all in one.

And I don't have it! I feel my teeth grit in frustration.

 _'Ugh, I'm getting a headache again.'_

 ** _I must have it._**

At this point I peripherally realise I _may_ be overreacting. Just a tad.

 _ **Now. Now. Now.**_

Eh...

 _ **My preciousssssss...**_

Picking up the pace.

"Oh hello there."

"Good day Mr Painting."

Ignore.

Process later.

 _'That's really fucking weir-'_

Ignore!

* * *

.

* * *

AN: Firstly:

In remembrance of Stan Lee. Died at the age of 95. He was, and will continue to be, a hallmark name in human history. One of the many curators of dreams. May he rest in peace.

Secondly.

I really, really, really apologise for the late update. Ugh, even though I said "see ya soon" and shit. I do apologise.

Reason for the lateness is illness basically.

This was meant to go out last Thursday, but I was pretty much bedridden due to a cold and fever. It took till Saturday to be able to think properly, even then I wasn't 100%, or even 60%, but I needed to do my College took Saturday and Sunday up, then it was back to College on Monday. I wasn't completely well and my condition continued to worsen over the working week. Deadline coming up I'm needing to go in on my off-days as well. It again took till Saturday (yesterday) to recover to functionality, and then I had to spend it doing College work again. It is only today that I am able to get this pile of shit out.

Most of it was written whilst ill, it's honestly not all that good in my eyes. There's meaningless repetition and dull expositions, probably a load of typos and grammatical errors too.

Audible sigh.

I was meant to leave that "Well that went well" as a troll and not explain anything at all, but forgot the day after and explained it all anyway.

But eh. You've waited long enough. Hopefully the next chapter will be of better quality.

Ugh.

Thanks for bearing with me. Thanks for reading.

I will now accept your spit in the review section.

.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Zoom to 170% Don't hurt your eyes!

Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Cover Image is Severus Snape by eliz7 on Deviantart

* * *

I braced for a bang.

I got a sizzle.

That rather aptly summed up the next week of my sordid existence.

There was no cumulative incident nor any great civil unrest amidst the midgets surrounding me.

I was not pulled aside, there were no suspicious glares, I didn't slip up, I didn't run my mouth...

 _Development? Nah. Plot? Can you eat it?_

One would expect transition; an event or interaction to smoothly progress the story, giving one the motive to change scene, develop character and interpersonal interaction.

That is how a book reads. The passage of pages moved by the almighty concept of _plot_.

Conflict, climax and aftermath...

 _Nada._

Some story's aren't so interesting.

Some story's aren't so convenient.

 _In conclusion._

Nothing of note occurred.

 _I may be living in someone else's story, yes. My life may be a story, yes._

 _B_ _ut unfortunately for you, dear reader; I'm a shit story teller._

Bad luck mate.

* * *

My new favourite place, the Hogwarts library.

The smell, silence, touch, warmth and sight of the place have no doubt engraved itself deeply into my psych by now.

It is _Grand_.

Seated in my cosy small corner, nestled between two towering bookshelves barely a metre apart, I am hidden, I am protected.

I relax as the smell of parchment calms me. The warmth is almost lulling me to sleep.

Closing my eyes and retreating into my mind, I review what I came here for...

 _'In the West the "Magical Mind Arts" are commonly split into five subsections.'_

Four "Orthodox" and one external "Unorthodox"

The four Orthodox Mind arts are as follows:

 _Occlumency_ \- pertaining the defence and concealment of one's own mind.

 _Legilimency_ \- pertaining the reading and communication of another's mind.

 _Augeomency_ \- pertaining the discipline and self-control over one's own mind.

 _Incitomency_ \- pertaining the hastening and acceleration of one's own mind.

 _'These four Orthodox magic are the oldest structured magic in the West, created by Magical Roma as far back as BC.'_

There were of course previous iterations of structured Mind Magic practised far earlier by the Greeks, Egyptians, Vedics and the ancient Shang Dynasty.

But these four are first that the Occidental people could lay claim to, and have thus been treasured dearly throughout the ages.

 _The fifth "Unorthodox" Mind magic is Obliviation. The destruction of the mind._

The only reason it is revered to as Unorthodox is because it was "made" (structured) at a later date. Officially dated as "only" a few hundred years old.

Well, compared to the two millennia of the four orthodox arts, I suppose it is only "only"...

As a result of it being "only" a few hundred years old, some die hard _Traditionalists_ (read: idiots) disdain it, refusing to put it on the same level as the Four. Thus labelling it with the term "Unorthodox", which in Pure-blood society is as derogatory as you can get without profanity.

Bah!

 _'I personally believe it's just because it doesn't end in 'mens''_

Not to mention that "Unorthodox" branch is the most widely practised Mind Art in the West due the formal formation of the Obliviators employed by the Ministry of Magic and the Magical Congress of the United States of America.

There is also the fact the the one who developed the Memory Charm Obliviate was a woman, Mnemone Radford.

Sexism is not actually as _widely_ spread in the magical world as it is on the muggle side (something to do with females being just as able to hex you balls off as any man), but it is there. In the dark little corners that still practice inbreeding, the bigotry is... _intense_ , to say the least, as much to make up for it's rarity.

Fortunately, this _is_ rare.

 _'It's still there however...'_

Back to topic.

 _'To I, Augeomency and Occlumency are paramount.'_

The rest are secondary.

 _'I should begin soon...'_

* * *

My eyes open and I take breath.

The parchment sprawled over my desk before me are largely filled.

Setting down my quill in it's pot (must remember to buy some muggle conveniences), I lean back into my chair with a creak.

Under candle light I can spy the dust particle drifting around the ceiling of my dimly lit room.

Unlike the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, Slytherin students have the benefit of single rooms that, although slightly small, are private. I hear Ravenclaw students get single rooms Fourth year and above, but have to bunk with at least one other for the first three years.

Being Slytherin does have it's perks.

The room isn't even that small, for my former body certainly, but for the me of now; it's just right. Pretty cosy too once you've got used to it.

Although the walls are cobblestone and the dim ambience of the room makes it seem like a prison cell at first glance, it does have it's own charms.

The wooden rafters for one. I have only slept under wooden rafters once in my past life, a wood cabin, and I think only someone who has done so before would realise just how homely a splash of wood makes a room.

The only bad thing I noticed about wooden rafters back in the wood cabin were the bugs and dust, but due to either spells or House-elves (must befriend), probably both, my rafters a spick-span clean!

 _'This is becoming a House Under the Hammer episode...'_

There must be heating running through the walls or a magical equivalent because the stone walls are actually slightly warm to the tough. I'm not sure how it's measured, but room is always just the right temperature for hibernation.

 _'Which makes doing homework here a bit difficult... I'm always on the verge of falling asleep.'_

It is very quite, but not complete silence, I can hear faint thuds and murmurs from the common room down the hallway, perfect for lulling me to sleep.

 _'Seriously, it's sooo easy to sleep here.'_

There is some air circulation spell too, to stop me suffocating and it keeps the room surprisingly airy.

 _'Magic air-con.'_

Finally it's very secure. Or at least feels so. The walls go without saying, having stone makes them feel very solid, and my door I think is oak wood at least five inches thick. Slytherin students are also the only students in Hogwarts with the privileged of locked doors.

 _'It's up to the students to enchant it to resist the Unlocking Charm (Alohomora).'_

A creak of my chair snaps me out of presenting a TV show that won't be aired for at least another few decades.

 _'Heh.'_

Come to think of it the furniture aren't bad either. All wood. Very classy. Would sell for quite a bi-

 _'Enough already.'_

All four legs smack the floor once more as I lean forward. Homework done. Time for bed.

Getting up, cleaning parchment, packing away, cleaning quill, packing away, changing clothes, packing away...

 _'Routine.'_

I can't help but smirk ruefully.

It only took a week. Or maybe thirteen years? Yes. A week and thirteen years to get into routine.

 _'Heh.'_

Routine has saved more than I could count this passing week. Routine and habit.

Movement, eating, talking, pissing, shiting, _magic_. We don't realise just how much we leave to habit and routine.

The first spell of _this_ life was Lumos. Scared the fuck out of me when it didn't happen first try. Thought I had lost the magic. Looking back that self-doubt didn't help at all.

In the end it happened on accident I suppose. Just when I was about to give up I waved the wand negligently one last time and it happened. After that I got the _feel_ of magic and the rest came much easier.

 _'I almost cried in relief, it was only my older-self that kept me lucid. Without that the young "Severus" would have no doubt broke into hysterics.'_

Today it is Friday, a milestone. One full week since I "awoke" in this land of magic.

It's rather early, but I want an early start tomorrow.

Snuggling into my duvet, I let myself sink.

 _'Today I sleep.'_

The hum of life from the common room continue.

 _'Tomorrow it begins.'_

I can't help but smile at my own melodramatics.

 _'Tomorrow...'_

* * *

.

* * *

AN:

The word Legilimency is made up of the Latin word 'legere' (to read) and 'mens' (mind). Occlumency is made up from 'occulto' (to hide) and 'mens' (mind).

These two above are canon, as most of y'all known.

Augeomency and Incitomency are two I added in.

I didn't want Occlumency and Legilimency to be so "catch all". Rowling doesn't really expand on the matter so we as writers have quite a bit of leeway. I have used my creative licence to flesh things out a bit.

Augeomency is made from the Latin verb 'augeo' (augment, grow, magnify) and 'mens'. Incitomency uses the Latin verb 'Incito' (incite, haste, also augment) and 'mens'.

Augeomency was something I first saw in the FanFiction "Son of the Squib" by Umodin. I later realised it was also in the Fic "0800-Rent-A-Hero" by brainthief which was released earlier so Augeomency probably originated from there. I could be wrong.

Incitomency however is completely mine (I think). There are fics where people use Occlumency to speed up their processing speed which I though was really cool. But Occlumency is only used to hide one's lies and fend of a Legilimency probe in canon. So I made a new branch.

Hope you're not too annoyed.

Anyway thanks for reading, this was meant to go out yesterday, but I just needed to finish it off.

Jeez my deadlines...

Whatever.

I _think_ it's better quality than last chapter.

Do leave a review if you please.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.

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